Speculation If/When Enzo Goes, who do you want and why?

Log in to stop seeing adverts

Status
Not open for further replies.
ThaiSweetChilli said:
Oh you must be talking about the time he was employed by an emotionally unstable owner for about 6 weeks. Yeh got you.
Click to expand...
You do realise Olympiakos and Notts Forest have the same owner, don’t you?
 
Paul Canaday said:
Well, partner, we oughta be gettin' some folks in the next week or so to give whoever a fair shake at things. I got a hunch that ol' zebra from Brighton might just be the right one for the job. He's got that fire in his belly and a heap of passion that shines brighter than a harvest moon. Heck, with those stripes, he won't have to worry 'bout blending in! But hold your horses, I have to confess that I reckon I got his name mixed up – he ain't no zebra, but he's got the same spirit and energy to stand out from the herd. I reckon he'd fit in just fine 'round these parts and could really make a difference.
Click to expand...

Yee-haw!
 
The Long and Winding Tale of Steve Cooper (an AI-authored story)

Once upon a time, deep in the mystical and shadowy woods of Sherwood, there lived a peculiar figure known as Steve Cooper. Steve, once a celebrated football manager for Nottingham Forest, had an intense love for the beautiful game. However, his obsession with tactics, victories, and the thrill of the match had begun to consume him, transforming him into a creature both pitied and feared by those who crossed his path.

Steve Cooper had once been a respected man, guiding his team through the highs and lows of the football league. But the pressure and the unending quest for glory took its toll, warping his mind and body. He became reclusive, retreating to the darkest parts of the forest, where he could be alone with his thoughts and his precious strategies.

"Yesss, priceless," he would hiss to himself in the stillness of the night, clutching a worn-out notebook filled with formations and plays. "We must find the perfect tactic, the one to rule them all!"
In his solitude, Steve developed strange habits and an almost feral appearance. His hair grew wild, his eyes gleamed with a manic light, and his once sharp suits were replaced by ragged clothes. The townsfolk whispered about the mad football manager who had turned into a creature of the forest.

One fateful day, while scavenging for food near the edge of the forest, Steve stumbled upon a peculiar snack: a bag of Pickled Onion Monster Munch. His keen nose caught the sharp, tangy scent, and his eyes lit up with a rare glimmer of joy.

"What is this, priceless?" he muttered, tearing open the bag with trembling hands. "Monster Munch! Our priceless, our tasty treat!"

Steve devoured the snack with fervour, the intense flavour awakening something within him. It became his new obsession, a small comfort in his twisted existence. He began to hoard bags of Monster Munch, hiding them in secret caches throughout the forest.

But the Monster Munch did more than just sate his hunger. It sparked memories of his past life, of the roaring crowds, the smell of fresh-cut grass, and the camaraderie of his team. These memories clashed with his current reality, driving him further into madness.

One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, Steve found himself near a clearing where a group of children played football. He watched from the shadows, his eyes glistening with envy and longing. They kicked the ball with carefree abandon, laughing and shouting, completely unaware of the creature lurking nearby.

"Yesss, we knows the game," Steve whispered, his voice a raspy croak. "We can teach them, priceless. We can show them how to play, how to win!"

In a moment of clarity, Steve stepped into the clearing, startling the children. They stared at him with wide eyes, unsure whether to run or stay.

"Don't be afraid," he said, his voice softening. "I used to be a coach, a great coach. Let me show you."
He took the ball and, with surprising skill, demonstrated a series of moves and passes. The children, mesmerised, gathered around him, eager to learn. For a brief moment, Steve Cooper was once again a teacher, a mentor, sharing his passion for the game.
As the evening turned to night, the children reluctantly left, promising to return the next day. Steve watched them go, a bittersweet smile on his lips.

"We did good, priceless," he whispered to himself, clutching an empty bag of Monster Munch. "We did good."

As the weeks passed in the shadowy depths of Sherwood Forest, Steve Cooper's reputation as the enigmatic coach he once was grew. He continued to mentor the local children, his passion for football rekindling in the most unexpected of places. Yet, despite these moments of clarity and purpose, the lure of his priceless Monster Munch never wavered. It was during one such twilight session with the children that Steve overheard a conversation that would change his fate forever.

"Did you hear?" one boy said excitedly. "They say the King Power Stadium is filled with all sorts of treasures, even crates and crates of Pickled Onion Monster Munch!"

Steve's ears perked up at the mention of the stadium. King Power Stadium, home of Leicester City Football Club, a place of legends and dreams. The thought of endless supplies of Monster Munch was too tantalizing to resist. His mind raced, visions of himself as the manager of Leicester City, surrounded by his beloved snack, filled his thoughts.

"Yesss, priceless," he muttered to himself, eyes gleaming with a newfound determination. "We must go to Leicester. We must claim our destiny."

Determined to secure the manager's job at Leicester City, Steve set off on his journey, traveling by night and hiding by day. The thought of the endless Monster Munch drove him onward, his heart pounding with excitement. Finally, after days of travel, he arrived at the imposing gates of King Power Stadium.

His dishevelled appearance and wild eyes startled the guards, but his reputation preceded him. They allowed him in, amused by the eccentric former manager who had become something of a legend. Inside the stadium, Steve was directed to John Rudkin, the club's Director of Football.

Rudkin, a dimwit who presented himself as a meticulous and stern figure, was initially sceptical of Steve's intentions. But as Steve began to speak of his vision for the team and his unparalleled passion for both football and Monster Munch, Rudkin's curiosity was piqued.

"We will see what you can do, Mr. Cooper," Rudkin said, leading Steve to his office. "Show me your strategies."

Steve's eyes lit up with manic glee. He pulled out a bag of Pickled Onion Monster Munch from his tattered coat and began to arrange the pieces on Rudkin's desk. He placed them meticulously, balancing each piece on the ridges and grooves of Rudkin's body, creating a complex array of formations.

"See here, priceless," Steve whispered, his fingers trembling with excitement as he set up a 4-4-2 formation on Rudkin's chest. "This is our defence, solid and unyielding. And here," he added, placing more Monster Munch pieces on Rudkin's arms, "our midfield, strong and agile."

Rudkin watched in a mix of fascination and horror as Steve continued, balancing the snacks with precision and explaining each move in detail. Steve's eyes never left the Monster Munch, his voice a fervent whisper.

"And our forwards, here," he said, placing the final pieces on Rudkin's legs. "Quick and deadly, ready to strike."

With the formation complete, Steve began to nibble on the snacks, one by one, his eyes closing in sheer delight. The tangy flavour filled his senses, fuelling his passion and conviction.

Rudkin, despite himself, found the entire display oddly compelling. Steve's passion was undeniable, his strategies sound, even if his methods were unorthodox. As Steve finished his demonstration, Rudkin nodded slowly.

"Mr. Cooper," Rudkin said, "your approach is... unique, but your knowledge and passion for the game are clear. Welcome to Leicester City Football Club."

Steve's heart soared. He had done it. He had secured the job of his dreams, a place where he could combine his love for football and Monster Munch. As he left Rudkin's office, he couldn't help but smile, knowing that his journey had only just begun.

In the heart of King Power Stadium, amidst the crates of Pickled Onion Monster Munch, Steve Cooper found his new home, ready to lead Leicester City to glory with the same fervour and dedication that had driven him through the dark woods of Sherwood.
 
alex said:
Cooper in my mind has over achieved wherever he has been - incredible at working with youngsters too. I don’t get the negativity around him?
Click to expand...
It's just unexciting I guess. I'm not averse to him getting the job but I also think there are better options in terms of suitability.

Whoever gets it will be facing a mammoth task next year and will get it wrong at times so they need to be resilient like Maresca. It's going to be hard to find someone who offered us everything Enzo did and who can galvanise the team as he did but there are options.

Corberan would be my choice but it's a hunch really if I'm honest.
 
Joe_Fox said:
The Long and Winding Tale of Steve Cooper (an AI-authored story)

Once upon a time, deep in the mystical and shadowy woods of Sherwood, there lived a peculiar figure known as Steve Cooper. Steve, once a celebrated football manager for Nottingham Forest, had an intense love for the beautiful game. However, his obsession with tactics, victories, and the thrill of the match had begun to consume him, transforming him into a creature both pitied and feared by those who crossed his path.

Steve Cooper had once been a respected man, guiding his team through the highs and lows of the football league. But the pressure and the unending quest for glory took its toll, warping his mind and body. He became reclusive, retreating to the darkest parts of the forest, where he could be alone with his thoughts and his precious strategies.

"Yesss, priceless," he would hiss to himself in the stillness of the night, clutching a worn-out notebook filled with formations and plays. "We must find the perfect tactic, the one to rule them all!"
In his solitude, Steve developed strange habits and an almost feral appearance. His hair grew wild, his eyes gleamed with a manic light, and his once sharp suits were replaced by ragged clothes. The townsfolk whispered about the mad football manager who had turned into a creature of the forest.

One fateful day, while scavenging for food near the edge of the forest, Steve stumbled upon a peculiar snack: a bag of Pickled Onion Monster Munch. His keen nose caught the sharp, tangy scent, and his eyes lit up with a rare glimmer of joy.

"What is this, priceless?" he muttered, tearing open the bag with trembling hands. "Monster Munch! Our priceless, our tasty treat!"

Steve devoured the snack with fervour, the intense flavour awakening something within him. It became his new obsession, a small comfort in his twisted existence. He began to hoard bags of Monster Munch, hiding them in secret caches throughout the forest.

But the Monster Munch did more than just sate his hunger. It sparked memories of his past life, of the roaring crowds, the smell of fresh-cut grass, and the camaraderie of his team. These memories clashed with his current reality, driving him further into madness.

One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, Steve found himself near a clearing where a group of children played football. He watched from the shadows, his eyes glistening with envy and longing. They kicked the ball with carefree abandon, laughing and shouting, completely unaware of the creature lurking nearby.

"Yesss, we knows the game," Steve whispered, his voice a raspy croak. "We can teach them, priceless. We can show them how to play, how to win!"

In a moment of clarity, Steve stepped into the clearing, startling the children. They stared at him with wide eyes, unsure whether to run or stay.

"Don't be afraid," he said, his voice softening. "I used to be a coach, a great coach. Let me show you."
He took the ball and, with surprising skill, demonstrated a series of moves and passes. The children, mesmerised, gathered around him, eager to learn. For a brief moment, Steve Cooper was once again a teacher, a mentor, sharing his passion for the game.
As the evening turned to night, the children reluctantly left, promising to return the next day. Steve watched them go, a bittersweet smile on his lips.

"We did good, priceless," he whispered to himself, clutching an empty bag of Monster Munch. "We did good."

As the weeks passed in the shadowy depths of Sherwood Forest, Steve Cooper's reputation as the enigmatic coach he once was grew. He continued to mentor the local children, his passion for football rekindling in the most unexpected of places. Yet, despite these moments of clarity and purpose, the lure of his priceless Monster Munch never wavered. It was during one such twilight session with the children that Steve overheard a conversation that would change his fate forever.

"Did you hear?" one boy said excitedly. "They say the King Power Stadium is filled with all sorts of treasures, even crates and crates of Pickled Onion Monster Munch!"

Steve's ears perked up at the mention of the stadium. King Power Stadium, home of Leicester City Football Club, a place of legends and dreams. The thought of endless supplies of Monster Munch was too tantalizing to resist. His mind raced, visions of himself as the manager of Leicester City, surrounded by his beloved snack, filled his thoughts.

"Yesss, priceless," he muttered to himself, eyes gleaming with a newfound determination. "We must go to Leicester. We must claim our destiny."

Determined to secure the manager's job at Leicester City, Steve set off on his journey, traveling by night and hiding by day. The thought of the endless Monster Munch drove him onward, his heart pounding with excitement. Finally, after days of travel, he arrived at the imposing gates of King Power Stadium.

His dishevelled appearance and wild eyes startled the guards, but his reputation preceded him. They allowed him in, amused by the eccentric former manager who had become something of a legend. Inside the stadium, Steve was directed to John Rudkin, the club's Director of Football.

Rudkin, a dimwit who presented himself as a meticulous and stern figure, was initially sceptical of Steve's intentions. But as Steve began to speak of his vision for the team and his unparalleled passion for both football and Monster Munch, Rudkin's curiosity was piqued.

"We will see what you can do, Mr. Cooper," Rudkin said, leading Steve to his office. "Show me your strategies."

Steve's eyes lit up with manic glee. He pulled out a bag of Pickled Onion Monster Munch from his tattered coat and began to arrange the pieces on Rudkin's desk. He placed them meticulously, balancing each piece on the ridges and grooves of Rudkin's body, creating a complex array of formations.

"See here, priceless," Steve whispered, his fingers trembling with excitement as he set up a 4-4-2 formation on Rudkin's chest. "This is our defence, solid and unyielding. And here," he added, placing more Monster Munch pieces on Rudkin's arms, "our midfield, strong and agile."

Rudkin watched in a mix of fascination and horror as Steve continued, balancing the snacks with precision and explaining each move in detail. Steve's eyes never left the Monster Munch, his voice a fervent whisper.

"And our forwards, here," he said, placing the final pieces on Rudkin's legs. "Quick and deadly, ready to strike."

With the formation complete, Steve began to nibble on the snacks, one by one, his eyes closing in sheer delight. The tangy flavour filled his senses, fuelling his passion and conviction.

Rudkin, despite himself, found the entire display oddly compelling. Steve's passion was undeniable, his strategies sound, even if his methods were unorthodox. As Steve finished his demonstration, Rudkin nodded slowly.

"Mr. Cooper," Rudkin said, "your approach is... unique, but your knowledge and passion for the game are clear. Welcome to Leicester City Football Club."

Steve's heart soared. He had done it. He had secured the job of his dreams, a place where he could combine his love for football and Monster Munch. As he left Rudkin's office, he couldn't help but smile, knowing that his journey had only just begun.

In the heart of King Power Stadium, amidst the crates of Pickled Onion Monster Munch, Steve Cooper found his new home, ready to lead Leicester City to glory with the same fervour and dedication that had driven him through the dark woods of Sherwood.
Click to expand...
You've way too much time on your hands, sunshine.
 
popillius said:
You've way too much time on your hands, sunshine.
Click to expand...
Beat me to it. But there are shortcuts where (in stories) you can use “replace word” to find (perhaps) the original character and replace this with “Steve Cooper.”
 
ThaiSweetChilli said:
Yes, of course. And?
Click to expand...
So Corberan’s complete **** up of the Olympiakos job can be excused because he was working for a maniac of an owner.

But then you criticise Cooper who performed miracles under the same maniac owner.

Make it make sense. Because I ****ing can’t.
 
City Fan said:
It’s great how differing peoples opinions are.

Because Steve Cooper would be my number one choice. He has had success at every managerial position he has had, and has always left a team in a better position than when he took over.
Click to expand...
The people who would welcome him with open arms aren't really the problem though.


I can say his winless final 13 games has me frothing at the gash if I'm honest


Most Forest fans I know were wanting him sacked at one point
 
camberwell fox said:
Beat me to it. But there are shortcuts where (in stories) you can use “replace word” to find (perhaps) the original character and replace this with “Steve Cooper.”
Click to expand...

I mean obviously I didn't write all of that myself but did come up with the idea, the storyline, and manually did the final edit. It's an original story that takes inspiration from such bodies of work as lord of the rings, early foxestalk polls, talkingballs flavour opinion, and mixes them with some imagination. AI did the rest. I'm glad some of you enjoyed it.
 
Status
Not open for further replies.
Log in to stop seeing adverts

Championship

P Pld Pts
1Bournemouth00
2Arsenal00
3Aston Villa00
4Brentford00
5Brighton00
6Chelsea00
7Palace00
8Everton00
9Fulham00
10Ipswich00
11Leicester00
12Liverpool00
13Manchester C  00
14Manchester U00
15Newcastle00
16Nottm F00
17Southampton00
18Tottenham 00
19West Ham00
20Wolves00

Latest posts

Top